


What He Does

by CaptainTarthister



Series: From Across the Room [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Love at First Sight, Love/Hate, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5473571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime apologizes. Brienne accepts. <br/>And more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Two weeks passed after Jaime Lannister's attempts to torpedo Evenstar Bakery & Café. Brienne was true to her word in playing the game he started. Relying on the legions of bloggers and Twitter fans of Evenstar Bakery & Café, she put the word out on the dishonourable man, and played the injured, helpless, small business owner to the letter. Four days later, the deliveries returned, along with apologies from the suppliers. As a show of good faith, they gave her a discount for upcoming deliveries.

All her life, men had tried to beat Brienne Tarth, and all her life, she’d either sent them back to their mothers bleeding or crying. Jaime Lannister didn’t have a mother—she died giving birth to this brother, she found out—but he had a father, a man named Tywin Lannister. From the few inquiries Brienne made, this man was the lion incarnate—fierce and feared. 

She grew up in Tarth, an island six hours away by ferry from Westeros. So she knew next to nothing about the Lannisters. Sansa was well aware of the family, though she grew up in Winterfell, in the far north of Westeros. The Lannister brothers were not exaggerating when they told her they owned half the businesses in the country. They had their hands everywhere—from communications, utilities, transportation, food and beverage, banking. It was rumoured that Tywin Lannister shit gold. His three children, the twins Jaime and Cersei, and then Tyrion, all had the potential to be as fierce and feared. Brienne had yet to meet Cersei and the longer that didn’t happen, the better. People were easily impressed by a famous name and money but as far as she was concerned, Lannisters took themselves way too seriously and someone had to remind them that they were nothing special. 

Brienne was cutting a sheet of flattened flour and eggs into triangles when Sansa came to her, a concerned look on her face. Hot Pie stood beside Brienne, shaving chocolate off a slab. They were making chocolate croissants. It was a new addition to the menu. 

“Brienne,” Sansa clucked her tongue, “Jaime Lannister’s looking for you.”

Brienne took some chocolate from the shaved pile, put it in a triangle then rolled it easily. “What does he want this time? Is he going to cut off the electricity?”

“You show him, Brienne,” Hot Pie told her. He was a friendly-looking young man with warm brown eyes and a shy smile. He was conscious of his frame because he was round and very overweight. But he was confident in the kitchen.

“He’s wearing a tux,” Sansa told her, frowning.

Brienne laughed. “You can’t really think he’s wearing a tux for me, Sansa. He’s on his way to a date and needs to annoy me to beef himself up for the poor girl. Fine. I’ll see him. Gendry?” She called to another one of her bakers. “Could you please help Hot Pie?”

“No problem,” Gendry Waters told her.

Brienne untied her apron and washed her hands. In her office, she unbuttoned her shirt, revealing the blue, short-sleeved t-shirt she was wearing under it. She stepped out of her clogs and into her loafers then walked out of the kitchen.

Jaime Lannister was not sitting down. He was leaning against the counter, looking fine and lethal in a black tux. His long hair was slicked back from his forehead. A beard outlined the strong line of his jaw. He had been clean-shaven the last time she saw him.

“What do you want this time, Lannister?” Brienne asked him, satisfied that he jumped at her voice. She stood behind the counter, a hand on her waist.

Jaime grinned at her. “It’s nice to see you too, wench.”

“My name is Brienne, you idiot. Were you dropped on your head when you were a child?”

Gods damn it, she thought. There were handsome men and men who looked like half a god. Jaime Lannister was the latter. Usually, Brienne was immune to good looks but this was different. She got all tingly and warm and shaky. Standing behind the counter hid he tremor in her hands.

“Most likely,” he said, not missing a beat.. He nodded at the t-shirt she was wearing, his eyes twinkling. “Blue is a good color on you.”

Brienne hated that she didn’t grow up with compliments. She hated even more that she didn’t know how to control the flush that crept up her cheeks at his words. Still frowning, she asked, sounding tired all of a sudden, “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to apologize. I’m sorry for what I did.” Jaime said, looking serious for a change. “It was low and very unworthy.” Then he pulled out something from his jacket pocket. “Here’s something to compensate for what you lost.”

Brienne saw that he had written a check for five times the amount the Evenstar made in a week. She shook her head. “I can’t accept that. And my business did not suffer.” Of course it did but she wasn't going to tell him that.

“Still, take it. I really am sorry.”

“Apology accepted. I’m still not taking it.”

Jaime frowned. “Then donate it to a shelter or whatever. Help me ease my conscience, wench.” He waved it at her. “Go on. Take it.”

Brienne reached for it. “Alright. Thank you. I’ll be sure to donate this in your name.”

“It’s in your name, wench. There’s no need to give me credit and I don’t want one.”

“Still—“

“I’m not looking for gratitude. Like I said, I’m here to apologize.”

“And it’s accepted.”

They stared at each other. Brienne shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Blushing, she mumbled, “Well, if that’s everything. I need to get back to work.”

“What are you doing later? After work?” He suddenly asked.

She frowned. “What’s it to you?”

Jaime looked impatient. “It’s an innocent question, wench.”

“Will you stop calling me that? I don’t like it.” Brienne snapped.

His grin was so wide and arrogant Brienne wanted to shove his head in a sack of candy sprinkles. “Why not? It suits you.”

“I really need to get back to work,” Brienne said, literally backing away from him. She glanced at his tux. “And you need to be elsewhere.”

“Unfortunately,” he said, frowning. “And I have to stay but I intend to sneak out when I’ve done my duty. So. After work. What are your plans?”

He looked like he really wanted to know. So Brienne told him. “It’s Meereenese takeout tonight,” she said. “Some TV, probably something from Westflix. Then to bed. Tomorrow’s another early day, like all days. Not as exciting as your party, I’m afraid.”

“I’d give anything to get out of it, to tell you the truth,” Jaime said, surprising her. He shrugged. “But it’s too late. Anyway, for what it’s worth, I really am sorry for what I did.”

Brienne could only nod at him. Their eyes met and Jaime gave her a small smile. "I'll see you later, then. _Wench._ "Then he turned and walked out of the restaurant.  
Long after he left, Brienne remained on her spot, looking at the door.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out why Jaime apologizes.

“I always thought I’d die with a belly full of wine and a pretty girl’s mouth around my cock,” Tyrion mused with a long sigh. “As of tonight, I’m convinced I’d die if I have to say `good of you to come’ one more time.”

“Don’t be crude,” Cersei told him, guiding a flute of champagne to her lips. Her smile, though beautiful, was forced. “These are investors and our business associates.”

“I consider it really rude that father’s forcing us to stay here and look like assholes when, I, for example, could be at home enjoying dinner with my fiancée,” Tyrion complained. He glanced at Cersei. “Don’t tell me you find this fun.”

“Of course I don’t. But it’s expected of us,” Cersei told him. Her smile widened as she greeted another of those associates. “Walder, hello. Nice to see you.”

Tyrion and Cersei continued to smile and greet the guests, engaging them in small talk. Jaime found them like this when he broke away from the crowd. Unlike his brother and sister, he appeared to be in his element, engaging the guests in actual conversation and smiling at them. He was grinning as he grabbed Tyrion’s glass and finished it off.

“You’re in a good mood,” Tyrion remarked. “Maybe you should share whatever it is you’re on.”

“I can use double,” Cersei agreed.

“Just pure happiness,” Jaime replied. “Of course I’m not having fun. This is tedious at best. Confirms even more that the only good thing about being a Lannister is the money.”

“Here, here,” Tyrion and Cersei echoed. They looked at each other and giggled. Jaime rolled his eyes.

Tyrion and Cersei were often combatants in the boardroom but they were brother and sister and loved each other dearly. Tyrion was proud of her beauty but often teased her for being vain. This annoyed Cersei a lot and called Tyrion `little beast,’ but affectionately. Only close family members and friends knew that as much as Cersei and Tyrion argued and threatened to wring each other’s neck, they were as close and genuinely respected each other.

Jaime, for his part, did find his sister beautiful but she wasn’t as smart as Tyrion, or as smart as she thought she was. He found her impatient and short-sighted, quick-tempered. He knew she wasn’t that big a fan of Margaery, who knew how to manipulate people to get her way whereas Cersei was blunt and dictatorial. But Jaime respected his sister—it was difficult navigating their world, even more when their own father only valued her beauty. But then, with the way Cersei acted most of the time, it was difficult to see past her lush hair, emerald eyes and naturally cherry-red lips. 

But she was loyal and protective, especially of Tyrion. She was known to fire employees who called him `imp’ or insulted him.

“I’ll be leaving in half an hour,” Jaime told them. 

“What the fuck?” Cersei growled.

“What the actual fuck?” Tyrion demanded.

“If he’s leaving, I’m leaving too,” Cersei said.

“I have a date tonight,” Jaime said. 

“Oh, really. That’s one excuse I haven’t heard before,” Cersei muttered.

“Come on, Cers,” Tyrion took her by the hand. “Let’s get ourselves drunk and sick so father will have no choice but to kick us out.”

“But I’m wearing a Daenerys design,” Cersei protested as Tyrion steered her away.

Jaime soldiered through the next thirty minutes with more forced pleasantries than he thought himself capable. Thinking of those sapphire blues helped him, and also imagining Brienne in front of the TV with her dinner. Oddly, he didn’t find the image pathetic, or her. It was comforting and something else—what, he didn’t know. But he liked the idea of her doing something so ordinary, so domestic. 

When she told him she could play his game, Jaime didn’t think much of it. She knew only cupcakes and frosting, not the business world. Boy, did he underestimate her. It turned out that Evenstar Bakery & Café had a rabid, loyal fan base and were more than willing to take up arms against him. They painted him as a spoiled, entitled rich boy. Well, Jaime knew that about himself. It was expected being a Lannister. He did not expect Lannister Enterprise to be portrayed as a monstrous empire intent on stamping to death a small business simply because the owner told him no. But that’s exactly what happened and what had Tywin summoning him to his office.

Jaime’s ears were still ringing. Tywin did not have a bad temper but he had a way with words that skinned you and pared you into pieces. Jaime had thought having Brienne’s orders suspended would bring her to her knees. It turned out he was the one to end up on his knees and asking for her forgiveness. That was surprising—Jaime couldn’t recall asking anyone for forgiveness, let alone feeling remorse. He did feel bad—all because she refused him.

For days, he debated whether to call her or apologize to her in person. He was no coward so he went to her shop before this blasted cocktails. He didn’t expect her to refuse the cheque, he expected her to gloat and tell him what an ass he was. Instead, what he got were her big blues and crankiness at having her work interrupted. And a great hesitation in accepting that financial compensation. His actions had cost her, indeed.  
True to his promise, he left half an hour later. In the car, he sat back, glad to leave that miserable two hours far behind. He was looking dully out of the window when an idea hit him. He pressed the button that lowered the partition screen.

“Take me to Silk Street,” he told the driver. “Drop me off at the corner. If I’m not out after ten minutes, come back for me in the morning.”

“Silk Street it is, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Upon reaching Silk Street, Jaime had the car drop him off in front of a flower shop. It was just about to close but by waving a hundred-dragon note, he was let in the shop and allowed to choose. He selected a box of rare winter roses. 

Brienne was halfway through her roasted lamb with carrots and spices when a buzzing resounded throughout her apartment. On and on it went as she righted herself. “Alright already!” She shouted, wondering who could be dropping by at—okay, it was nine-thirty in the evening. Not very late. Staggering, she dove towards the door so she could press the button next to it. 

“Who is it?”

“Hello, wench. It’s me,” came Jaime Lannister’s voice. “Let me in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. In this world, Cersei and Tyrion love each other. Not in that way, though.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Jaime and Brienne confrontation.

She must have been dropped on her head as a child, Jaime thought, irritated as he waited out in the street like the unwelcome guest he was. The list of the times Brienne refused him was growing.

The heavy wooden door of the three-storey brownstone she lived in swung open and out came that woman. Blond hair messy on one side and flat on the other, her left cheek marked with lines probably from laying down. She did look a little sleepy, Jaime thought, taking note of her heavy-lidded eyes, and more cross than usual. She had thrown on a trench coat, left open, revealing a threadbare yellow t-shirt and red checked pajamas. He didn’t need laser vision to see the clear outline of her nipples. He licked his lips before shooting her a smile meant to melt her clothes off. Yes, even those ridiculous--Seven Hells, were those lion slippers?

“What are you doing here?” She demanded. “And how the hell did you find out where I live?”

“Your bank records, of course.” Jaime told her. “How did you know where I lived?”

“You gave me your personal card rather than the business one, if you remember. It was very easy to track your address from there. Stop changing the subject. What are you doing here?”

“I came here to see you.” 

“You saw me a few hours ago.”

“I wanted to see you again.”

As soon as he said those words, he knew he meant them. Brienne, however, continued to look at him with doubt and suspicion. Seven Hells, she really was unlike most women. No, there was no one like her. Only her. 

“Look. I know why you’re here.” Brienne looked him right in the eye. “I’m ugly and undesirable but for some reason, that still doesn’t put off men from thinking of fucking me. I’m telling you now that you won’t succeed and I’m not interested.”

Jaime, puzzled, demanded, “What the fuck are you talking about? I came here to give you this!” 

He thrust the box of winter roses at her. Brienne glared at them and he shook it. “Fuck, Brienne, will you get my damned gift and see what’s inside. It won’t bite or explode.”

Brienne crossed her arms. “Why are you giving me a gift?”

“I don’t know!” Jaime exclaimed. 

“You don’t know!” Brienne shot back.

“I’m tired from talking. I’d like nothing more than to crash in my bed and sleep but instead I’m here, giving you flowers, and you’re looking at me like I came here with shitty intentions. I was shitty to you before—“

“Hah! That’s an understatement.”

“Hey, I thought I was forgiven.”

“I accepted your apology. I certainly did not forgive you. Your pettiness cost me big.”

“So I was right to give you that check.” Jaime said. "And you lied to me."

Brienne turned away and mumbled something to her feet. 

“What?” Jaime growled.

Brienne’s head snapped up. “I said it’s in the mail. You’re not buying your way out of this, Lannister. I don't care for your money.”

Jaime was shocked. “You think that’s why I gave you the check? I was trying to compensate for what I did but it certainly wasn’t to buy my way out of the trouble I caused. I really am sorry. So sorry that I got you flowers. Winter roses,” he said, opening the lid. “They’re blue but they have nothing on your eyes.” 

Brienne peeked in and stepped back. Her face burned. Her words spilled out in a rush. “Th-Thank you. But flowers are wasted on me. I—I don’t like them.”

“What woman doesn’t like flowers?” He was really dumbfounded. How else was she different from other women?

“This one certainly. And I’d appreciate it if you don’t lump me with other women, Lannister. I’m not like them.” Brienne turned to go.

“Wench, you're being very rude, you know. First, you put the check in the mail—one I gave with genuine intentions—“

“Oh, don’t fuck me, Lannister.”

Well, that conjured up interesting images. Lots of sapphire eyes and flushed skin. It gave Jaime a pause. He frowned and went on, “Then you’ve just refused another gift—one given with good intentions because how the fuck am I supposed to know you don’t like flowers—and lastly, you won’t even invite me in. Should I point out that it’s cold and your nipples are very hard?”

He almost laughed at Brienne’s squeak of outrage as she glanced down her shirt and saw the confirmation of his words. Angrily, she pulled the coat shut and knotted the belt tight. He almost wanted to point out to her that he could still see his nipples but she might shove him down the stairs. Instead, Jaime put the flowers away, putting them on the ledge.

“At least invite me in for tea or coffee. Anything, to get out of this cold.” He spoke gently this time.

“Just to remind you, Lannister,” Brienne told him, “you were not invited. Hence, I have the right to refuse you.”

“You’ve been refusing me since we met,” he complained. “When will you say yes to me, wench?”

“Try not being an arrogant prick and we’ll see.”

“Ah,” he spread his arms, “nothing to be done about that. I _am_ an arrogant prick. Spoiled and entitled too, I heard.”

Brienne’s cheeks flared scarlet. “Sorry about that.”

“I did not come here for your apology. I came here to see you.”

“Why?”

“I really don’t know.”

“You buy me flowers and you also don’t know why. Is there something you know?”

Jaime smiled at her. “I know that if you invite me in, I will say yes to your offer of either coffee or tea. But I would prefer coffee. Black.”

Brienne looked startled. “Black coffee?”

“I know. It’s unfashionable to be so boring with coffee these days what with lattes and grandes, and ventis and extra cream and searing hot or whatever. It’s a brew, that’s all. It’s a warm beverage that always delivers. No need to make it complicated.” 

During his tirade, Brienne’s eyes softened and a smile touched her lips. The gentle expression did wonders for her face. She was still far from attractive but it was next to impossible to look away from her now. 

“I agree,” she said.

**Author's Note:**

> Wesflix is the Netlfix of Westeros.


End file.
